


Corruption (The Urban Decay Mix)

by vissy



Category: Tokyo Babylon
Genre: M/M, Remix, Seishirou/Subaru - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-26
Updated: 2006-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vissy/pseuds/vissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Subaru proposes a counter bet and one year after <em>Tokyo Babylon</em> finds Seishirou in a different situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corruption (The Urban Decay Mix)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Victoria P](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/)’s 2006 [Remix/Redux Challenge](http://remix.illuminatedtext.com/dbarchive.php). Based on [Corruption](http://www.geocities.com/epeeblade/fanfics/corruption.html) by [Epeeblade](http://epeeblade.livejournal.com/). The headers are from _Measure for Measure_.

_i. Lay down the treasures of your body_

Their home is a deceptively simple 1K apartment, wound tight with wards that encourage passing eyes to slide away. The walls are bare and the floorboards are smooth; dust settles wherever their feet don’t, because Seishirou is an indifferent housekeeper and Subaru is a teenaged boy.

Seishirou toes off his shoes and hangs his coat, then pads softly into the kitchen where he spoons rice from the cooker. The fridge is almost empty; he drinks milk straight from the carton and winces at the sour taste before pouring the rest down the sink. They will have to go shopping again. Seishirou leaves money for Subaru most days but Subaru rarely uses it for anything more than cigarettes and Coke. Seishirou doesn’t mind. Supermarkets are a gift to couples like them, who have so little to talk about; they can stalk the aisles, stealing beanshoots and debating the merits of mass-produced tofu and frotting slyly against one another in the personal hygiene section. Seishirou likes drawing Subaru into play.

Splashing sounds drift through the quiet of the apartment as Subaru rises from his bath. Seishirou finishes his rice and leaves the bowl on the counter, curious to see if Subaru cleans up after him; they have lived together almost a year now and Seishirou can count on two hands the number of times Subaru had done the dishes. It may be Subaru’s idea of a game; Seishirou is uncertain. Subaru leaves dirty socks in their bed and rice in his toothbrush and skidmarks in the toilet bowl; Seishirou leaves no comment.

He walks into the bedroom and sits at the windowsill, lighting a cigarette as he watches the evening fall golden soft outside. Subaru has propped the window open with a battered old copy of _Vita Sexualis_; Seishirou can tell from the most recent dogeared corner that Subaru is still only halfway through the book despite months of intermittent attention, and he grins, wondering if Subaru would enjoy Krafft-Ebing better than Ogai.

His smile gentles as Subaru steps naked from the bathroom, toweling his dark, damp hair into glossy spikes. Sunset gives Subaru’s pale skin a healthier glow than it deserves; Subaru seldom leaves the apartment anymore except at Seishirou’s heel. He comes now to Seishirou’s side and says, in a formal tone, “Welcome home, Seishirou-san.”

“Thank you, Subaru-kun,” Seishirou answers, just as formally, before he closes his eyes and draws Subaru into the circle of his arms.

Subaru nestles closer, without reserve, taking Seishirou’s face between his hands and pressing a kiss against his right eyelid. “You look tired,” he says, tracing his thumbs across the rings beneath Seishirou’s eyes. “Do you want to bathe?”

“Do I need to?” Seishirou asks.

“N-no,” says Subaru slowly, as if the matter warrants serious thought. His mouth moves across Seishirou’s face, licking an inquisitive, winding path from the sheen of his brow to the coarse-grain of his jaw, then nuzzling beneath his ear until Seishirou’s eyes flash open with pleasure. He feels Subaru’s ribcage expand as it steals his scent, his breath, and Subaru’s whisper is like seawater filling his ear. “You taste like Tokyo. Smoke and sweat and magic. I love the taste of the city.”

_And I love you, Subaru-kun_, Seishirou thinks, but he does not say things like that anymore. Not this year. Instead he just smiles and pets the damp head burrowed into his shoulder. “It’s just as well. We haven’t much time. There’s work to be done tonight; the tree calls. And you probably haven’t left me much hot water anyhow.” He takes one of Subaru’s hands and touches his tongue to the red, wrinkled fingertips. Subaru spent so many years in gloves that his hands are now over-sensitive and easily chafed. “How long were you submerged today? Two hours? Three? Look at these poor little poppets, Subaru-kun. They look like dried cranberries. You should take better care of yourself.” Subaru’s fingers curl about his own; he turns Subaru’s hand and sets his mouth on the brand that grows more luminous the harder Subaru scours.

“But I want to take care of you,” says Subaru, with something of his old earnestness.

He has learnt so well; Seishirou couldn’t be prouder. “Bath hog,” he teases.

“Treehugger,” Subaru retorts, making Seishirou grin. “Hey, did you just drop cigarette ash on my naked ass?”

“Ah, I forgot. Forgive me.” He looks about but can’t reach an ashtray without relinquishing his hold on Subaru, so he turns Subaru’s hand again and stubs the cigarette out in the humid little cup of his palm. Subaru gasps at the pain, a wet bubble of sound that Seishirou swallows with his own mouth. He can feel Subaru’s fist clenched around the cigarette butt, feels it pushing against his heart, and he shoves Subaru backwards towards their bed in an awkward dance of snarl and shuffle.

Subaru drops deliberately when his shins hit the edge of the bed but he doesn’t unbalance Seishirou, who is ready for the move. He pins Subaru to the mattress hard enough to choke the breath out of him, then sits back on Subaru’s thighs, one hand wrapped around his throat and the other cupping his balls. Subaru looks gorgeous - eyes dazed, cheeks flushed, thin, pale chest hitching - and his hands are free if he decides he does not want to play; Seishirou makes certain of that. He holds his own breath, throttling his wild impatience, as Subaru swallows jerkily beneath his grip.

“Bastard,” Subaru rasps at last with a watery smile as his hands relax beside his head. The cigarette butt slips from his grasp, leaving a vicious-looking burn in the center of his palm.

Seishirou releases his throat and brushes the cigarette off the sheet, saying, “No smoking in bed, Subaru-kun.” Subaru lets out a small cough of laughter, then stills as Seishirou strokes his hand low across Subaru’s belly, where the skin is so soft, so vulnerable. Subaru’s pubic hair has grown in dark and downy as a baby chick’s, and Seishirou teases it with his fingertips, tugging gently at the roots as he damps the never-absent impulse to reach inside Subaru and eviscerate him. Seishirou cannot remember when that impulse first filled him and he is increasingly wary of it as their second year draws to a close, because it is seated in his own need to know Subaru outside in; the tree ventures no such claim on Subaru’s blood.

Seishirou does not know if he can win their bet twice, but the uncertainty alone is enough to keep Subaru alive.

“What are you waiting for?” Subaru squirms beneath him, an adorable shimmy of gangling boyish seduction. He rubs his thighs insistently against Seishirou’s, protesting the cage. Seishirou’s trousers are getting wrinkled, but later his coat will cover any sartorial crimes, and the dead will not care anyhow. As if reading his mind, Subaru says, “Isn’t there work to do?”

“It never ends.” Seishirou rolls Subaru’s balls in his hand, plumping them up tenderly as he watches the fitful bounce of Subaru’s cock against the fine crease between hip and thigh. Subaru’s foreskin, rolled back from his bath, reveals a rosy, interested cockhead. The burn hardened him; Seishirou pinches lightly, carefully, at his scrotum, and watches as he hardens more.

“So good,” Subaru murmurs. There is a dreamy smile on his face and a stealthy gleam beneath his lowered eyelids as he rubs his burnt palm hard against first one nipple, then the other. “You’re so good to me, Seishirou-san.”

Subaru’s effortless language of lies and truth please him as much as the sibilant syllables of his name on Subaru’s lips. “I want to be good for you, Subaru-kun,” he says, batting Subaru’s hand away from his chest; Subaru’s nipples are now stiff and glistening from contact with the seeping wound. Seishirou unfastens his belt, sliding it slowly through its loops, then winds it around Subaru’s wrists. “Only for you.”

Subaru accepts the binding; his hands curl calmly beneath his chin, palm to palm so he can speak spell if he wants, although Seishirou has scented no magic on him in almost a year. Seishirou unbuttons his flies and draws his cock out, stroking himself with a practiced, familiar grip as Subaru watches him with greedy eyes, and Seishirou is not surprised when Subaru pouts like a brat and says, “Hey, me too. You have to share.”

“Of course,” he answers soothingly, shifting his hips as he coaxes Subaru’s cock into the circle of his hand. Their flesh lines up, hot and anxious, and Seishirou jacks them together, his thumb steady on his own cock while his fingers tease the length of Subaru’s until Subaru hisses in frustration.

“Faster,” Subaru orders.

Seishirou ignores him, pressing back on his legs to quiet him and pulling their cocks at his own deliberate pace. Subaru’s foreskin slides sweetly beneath his fingers, and he says, “I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” because he knows it will madden Subaru.

When Subaru starts to roll his head from side to side, muttering furiously, he eases off him at last, examining with approval the creases left in Subaru’s skin from his trousers. He flips him onto his belly; Subaru scrambles up onto his elbows and knees, spreading them wide for stability, and whispers wetly, desperately, into the bed sheet, “Come on, come on.”

“You’re so cute, Subaru-kun,” Seishirou says, pressing a hand into the small of Subaru’s back to urge his ass higher.

“Not cute,” Subaru protests, wiggling deliciously in spite of his words.

“Cute,” Seishirou insists. He circles his hands over Subaru’s ass cheeks, easing them apart and nuzzling into the crease. “Presenting like a bitch in heat. There’s nothing, no one, cuter.”

Subaru sobs as Seishirou flicks his tongue over the trembling little hole. Subaru smells of soap and musk, and Seishirou licks him hard, trying to open him up and find a dirtier taste. Subaru pushes back at him, panting, “Seishirou-san, please,” and Seishirou digs his fingers into Subaru’s hips while Subaru fucks himself on Seishirou’s tongue.

Seishirou lets Subaru have his way, then pulls back slowly, suckling at the tempting sway of Subaru’s balls and mouthing a heated path up to the dimples above his ass. “My favorites,” he says, lavishing gentle attention on them while Subaru shoves at him, clumsy in his eagerness. “Ah, excuse me, Subaru-kun. Did you need something?”

“Bastard, yes!” Subaru snarls.

“More tongue? I’m always happy to eat you out; you know that.” He sinks his teeth into the curve of Subaru’s ass, hard enough to force a whimper from Subaru but not enough to break the skin. “Or do you want something more? Do you want my cock? Tell me, Subaru-kun. Tell me what you want. We haven’t got all night. Tell me what you want, or you’ll get my teeth.”

“F-fuck me, damn you,” Subaru chokes out, and Seishirou eyes him in some amusement; there is a string of saliva falling from Subaru’s quivering bottom lip into his clasped hands.

“As you like,” Seishirou replies, reaching into their bedside drawer for the lubricant.

“And you,” Subaru whispers, sounding a little scared as he loses touch with Seishirou’s body.

“Yes,” Seishirou assures him. “Yes, as I like.” He warms a generous amount of lube between his hands and wipes it over his cock. They have no condoms; he has been barebacking Subaru for nearly a year now and has had two urinary tract infections to show for it, but he doesn’t care. He agreed to Subaru’s counter bet and he will give Subaru everything he can, with nothing between them. They are lonely enough as it is.

He kneels behind Subaru, easing him open with a wet thumb before sliding his cock inside. Subaru quivers all over, then relaxes against him, sighing, “Yes…s’good…”

“Starving, were you?” Seishirou’s mouth curves in a tender smile that neither of them can see and waits while Subaru strains back carefully for more. When Subaru grunts with impatience he pushes his cock in further until he is balls-deep, his suit scraping against Subaru’s ass. Subaru’s back dips into a sharp curve, accenting the angle of Seishirou’s entry to his satisfaction, and Seishirou runs his hands down Subaru’s sides until he finds the deep smile lines at Subaru’s waist and grips them hard.

They fuck urgently, messily, because Seishirou is a demanding lover and Subaru is a teenaged boy. Seishirou pounds into him, rough and quick, and croons, “Take it, Subaru-kun, take it all,” because Subaru is weak for a cliche and can still blush, even after all this time. Subaru squeezes his cock when he pulls out and bears down when he lunges back in, and Seishirou comes deep inside him with a strength that makes the wards around them shimmer.

He pulls Subaru up by the hair until he is seated snug across his lap, then reaches around to tug him to an ungentle orgasm. While Subaru is still heaving for breath he unwinds his belt from Subaru’s wrists and waits several minutes before swatting him lightly on the thigh. Subaru eases off Seishirou’s cock and crawls away. Seishirou watches a thin line of semen creep down one of Subaru’s legs, and he says, “Get dressed.”

Subaru nods slowly, saying, “The tree calls.” He pulls on a pair of jeans while Seishirou buttons his flies and loops the belt around his waist. They will take with them the scent of blood and sweat and come and shit, and melt into the Tokyo night.

_ii. Fit his mind to death, for his soul’s rest_

Seishirou creates a labyrinthine glamour to entrap their prey, then fades into the shadows to watch Subaru work. Subaru looks gaunt and pretty beneath Seishirou’s starlight. He has not asked for the man’s name, and Seishirou offers no information; none of that matters. The man loses himself in the illusion, in Subaru’s starveling eyes; he forgets his fear and essays a clumsy come-on that Subaru greets with a smile full of teeth and a knife in his craw.

Subaru holds the man upright as blood bubbles from his mouth, and his voice, feather-soft, carries faintly to Seishirou’s ears. “Don’t close your eyes, not yet. The city is so beautiful; you don’t want to miss a thing.” Seishirou smiles as Subaru pulls the man’s head back and forces his dying eyes upon Seishirou’s comely dreamscape. Blood fountains from the man’s throat and Subaru kisses his cheek gently, repeating his quiet admonition: “Don’t close your eyes.”

The man obeys Subaru to the last; when Seishirou steps forward and takes the deadweight from Subaru’s arms, he finds his hunter’s moon reflected in the man’s still gaze.

He carries the body to the tree and inters it in the barrow to be consumed. As he kneels in a drift of petals Subaru stands beside him, respectful but distant, and the glamour fades to gray around them. Subaru reaches into his coat and draws out a pack of cigarettes; he taps two out, placing one between Seishirou’s lips and the other between his own. Seishirou stands with a creak, pats himself for a lighter and flicks out a small flame for them to share.

There’s a sooty smudge of blood on Subaru’s cheek; Seishirou knuckles at it affectionately and says, “You’re so untidy.”

Subaru murmurs, a non-committal sound, and they smoke in silence for several minutes before he says, “Our year is almost over.”

“I know,” Seishirou replies.

“She still lives, Seishirou-san.”

“I know.” Seishirou has not forgotten her; she shares his lover’s face. A light rain begins to fall; he drops his cigarette and grinds it beneath his shoe, then follows Subaru away from the tree.

They take the subway from Ueno Park into Ginza, where the city streets are bobbing with umbrellas. Subaru walks on Seishirou’s right, placing himself between the passing ribs and Seishirou’s blind side. Seishirou takes his hand and clasps it lightly, and the traffic is forced around them; he thumbs at the cigarette burn to make Subaru flinch.

“We need to go shopping,” says Subaru. “We’re out of band-aids.”

“And milk,” Seishirou says, remembering the sour taste in his mouth.

“It’ll keep.”

Seishirou is about to disagree when he sees Hokuto standing before them with a bundle of shopping bags clutched in one hand and an umbrella shadowing her face; Subaru has led them unerringly to her. She looks at them, at their joined hands, then steps from the path into a side alley.

They follow her. The alley is rank with the smell of garbage and old piss, and the city lights glisten in the rain puddles. Seishirou considers casting a glamour, but Hokuto doesn’t need one. She drops her bags, closes her umbrella and turns to face them.

“Subaru.”

“Hokuto-chan.” Their voices are so steady and alike, and Seishirou feels strangely proud, as if they are his children.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she says. Her expression suggests that she is not certain what she has found.

“Have you?” Subaru evinces a similar, if less honest, puzzlement. “I’m not lost. And you of all people shouldn’t have any trouble finding me. You’re my twin.”

“No,” she says. “No, you’re his now.”

“If it makes you happy to think like that.” He lets go of Seishirou’s hand and sketches a mocking love heart in the air. “Just like that.”

She lashes at him suddenly with her umbrella, and he catches the sharp finial between his hands before it can pierce his eye. The momentum sends him onto his back and she falls in an inelegant sprawl across him, her flounces dragging in the puddles. Subaru laughs, pushing the umbrella away and gathering her close; she nestles her nose beneath his chin and whispers, “You can still come home to me.”

“Can I? Hokuto-chan?” He kisses her furrowed brow, her damp cheeks. “You saw what I did to Grandmother; I made certain you would see. And you still want me in your heart? Silly sister. Silly heart.”

She kisses him back, then struggles to her feet; her knees are skinned. She looks at them both and then walks away, disappearing into the evening crowd.

“She still lives, Subaru-kun,” Seishirou says, offering him his hand again.

Subaru takes it and stands up. “Does she?”

They gather Hokuto’s belongings: her purse and umbrella, some groceries (milk but no band-aids), and a box of anpan from Kimuraya Bakery. “At least we won’t go hungry,” Seishirou says with a wry smile.

They drop the purse off at a nearby police station, then return to their apartment where they share a lukewarm shower and a pot of green tea. Subaru munches on a sweet bun while Seishirou treats his burn; he wraps a clean handkerchief around Subaru’s hand and sucks red bean paste from his lips. Subaru drags the stained sheet from their bed and Seishirou puts down a fresh one; they lie facing one another, naked, and Seishirou feels happy. “You’ve done well, Subaru-kun.”

“You’re pleased,” says Subaru. His fingertips drift lazily over Seishirou’s lips, then trail down his body until they rest over his heart. “You’re pleased, so I’m glad. Do you love me, Seishirou-san?”

“More than you’ll know.” He can feel his heartbeat slowing, obedient to Subaru’s art.

“Do you see me?”

“Yes, I see you. You’re beautiful.”

Subaru blushes, because he still can, and says, “Don’t close your eyes.”

“Never,” Seishirou replies, and Subaru reaches inside him and tears the heart from his chest.


End file.
